


six feet under

by amybri2002



Series: febuwhump 2021 [9]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Hopeful Ending, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders has Intrusive Thoughts, Gen, Hurt/Comfort But Mostly Hurt, Intrusive Thoughts, blood mention, disturbing imagery, injury mention, this one is. dark. if ur not easily disturbed pls stay away from this thank you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:41:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29312763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amybri2002/pseuds/amybri2002
Summary: The Dark Sides (excluding Janus) decide to ‘prank’ Remus. Nothing about this is funny, or could even be considered a ‘prank’. Especially not to Remus.
Relationships: Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders & Deceit | Janus Sanders
Series: febuwhump 2021 [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2138040
Comments: 6
Kudos: 42





	six feet under

**Author's Note:**

> day nine!! today’s prompt was ‘buried alive’ and oh boy i am sorry. remus bby you don’t deserve this but damn is it fun to torture you.   
> hope that y’all enjoy this <3

Remus banged on the lid of the coffin, screaming, shouting, so much so that his lungs began to ache, finding it harder and harder to breathe, screaming to be  _ let out _ , they couldn’t just leave him down here, he’d  _ die  _ or be left alone forever, or- or… 

His screaming wasn’t going to get him anywhere. There wasn’t even room to curl up in the coffin, no way he could lift the lid with the lock in place, the amount of dirt thrown on top - they’d buried him six feet under, in the deepest part of the Imagination, he- he couldn’t get out until someone wanted him to, unless someone came to get him, or save him, or… whatever. 

Tears streamed down his face, as he gasped for air, heavy breaths, entire body shaking. He couldn’t be left alone in here for so long, he- he wouldn’t be able to cope. Sides couldn’t die, could they? He would just… be left down here forever, slowly wasting away, slowly losing his mind. They’d dig him up in a hundred years time and he’d just be a skeleton, rotting with maggots crawling all over his body, still aware of everything going on around him, feeling his body slowly disintegrating, worms eating his flesh. Or he’d claw his own eyes out, tear his own heart out, bite off his finger, drown in his own blood, still unable to die, just suffering, suffering, suffering for all of eternity, growing old and frail, hair falling out, teeth falling out, unable to breathe but  _ still unable to fucking die _ . 

He wasn’t even sure what he had done wrong. He’d done  _ something  _ wrong, he knew that, he’d always done something wrong, he  _ knew  _ the others hated him, hated him so so much, hating him so much that they’d stick a knife in his heart without a second thought, twist it round and round until all his insides spilled out, chop off his limbs and grind them up, make them into pie, serve it to the Light Sides as a ‘prank’- 

They’d said that this was just a prank, over and over again, telling him to stop screaming, stop crying, stop fighting as they shoved him into the box, locked him up, threw him into the hole. They’d told him to stop crying, it was just a prank, just a joke,  _ why couldn’t he take a joke?  _ This was all just a game, just a game, just a game, did- did that mean they would come to get him back, soon? 

Or were they lying? 

No, it… had to be a joke. They were all laughing, wondering why Remus wasn’t laughing, why Remus didn’t get the joke. No one ever understood Remus’ jokes - no, he was deranged, demented, his jokes weren’t funny, even if they sounded hilarious to him. But their jokes weren’t funny, either. Their jokes just caused pain. 

So, so much pain. 

He wasn’t sure why, but… he was fairly certain that he was bleeding. Had the others hit him? Maybe, he… couldn’t really remember. But his knuckles were all bruised and bloody - probably from banging on the lid, that sounds about right - and he could feel the warm wetness of blood on his face, and there was little cuts all over his arms… nails, nails digging into his skin, blood seeping out, blood, so much blood- 

Remus tried to scream, he wanted so badly to scream - if he could scream, the noise would drown out his thoughts, or maybe someone would hear and come rescue him (did he deserved to be rescued?) - but he couldn’t, couldn’t get any noise out, throat too sore, aching, bleeding? Blood creeping up his throat, making him choke, drown, cough - he coughed, trying to get it all out, trying to breathe again, trying, trying,  _ trying _ , but… nothing came out. 

Was there even any in the first place? 

It was so dark. So cold. Remus was starving, thirsty, lonely, completely crushed, crushed up into tiny little piece, stomped on, treaded over, ran over with a car, a carriage, horses trotting over his body, wheels over his face, left for dead on the side of the road, roadkill, like a badger or a pigeon or something, left for dead,  _ dead _ . 

He sucked in a deep breath. He wasn’t dead. He was… He was okay, just a little trapped, he could-

Trapped. 

The walls of the coffin were closing in on him, making it harder and harder to move, crushing him, weighing down on his lung, darkness becoming even darker, darker, darker. 

He passed out. 

~*~ 

Footsteps.  _ Footsteps _ , footsteps overheard, desperate footsteps, running towards him - saving him? Or just… digging him up to torture him more? 

Remus was awake now, and crying all over again, voice still so hoarse from screaming that he couldn’t even call out to whoever was digging him up. All he could do was bang on the lid again, hope, pray, desperately pray that whoever it was was here to rescue him, not- not hurt him more. 

The lid opened, sunlight blinding him for a moment, and he almost wished that they’d close the lid again - the darkness was horrible, yes, but… the sun burned his eyes. Burned his skin, fire dancing over his flesh, melting away, so hot, too hot, boiling, like he was in an oven, a stew, over a campfire, people tearing away his limbs, chewing on his body - what would it be like to eat himself? Would that count as cannibalism, if it was his own body that he was eating? What would he taste like? 

He felt arms wrap around him, pulling him up and out of the coffin, holding him close, tightly, and for a moment Remus was afraid that it was the others again, back to hurt him more, squeeze the life out of him, punch him until he blacked out, until he was just a bloodied mess, throw him right back underground to wake up to darkness and cold and loneliness and pain and- 

This wasn’t the others. There were six arms wrapping around him, two holding him tight, two rubbing his back, one running a hand through his hair, and one wiping away Remus’ tears. Remus tried to focus in on the person in front of him, the worried look on his face, deep, soothing voice, muttering quiet reassurances- 

Janus. 

“Janus,” Remus breathed, voice so quiet, hoarse - it hurt to even  _ speak _ , he was… never this quiet. 

“Shh, baby, shh, it’s okay, I’ve got you,” Janus said, pulling Remus closer. Remus buried his head into Janus’ shoulder, sniffling, bringing up his own arms around him and clutching onto the back of his shirt. “You’re safe now, you’re safe, I- I promise that will  _ never  _ happen again.” 

“I… They…” 

“I know, I know.” Janus began to gently rock Remus back and forth, the motion lulling Remus back into a calmer state of mind. He felt safe, here in Janus’ arms. “They won’t hurt you anymore, I promise, you’re safe. I’ll protect you, you’re okay.” 

And maybe he would be okay. He certainly felt okay, here in Janus’ arms, safe, secure, warm. It almost made the hurt go away, almost made the tears stop falling. 

He’d be okay. He was… safe. Janus would take good care of him, he always did. 

He was okay. 


End file.
